Battle of the Birds
by FrankandJoe3
Summary: Dick was getting fed up with the attention Jason was getting from Bruce. Bruce was /his/ 'father' first. He intended it to stay that way.


**In Communication Arts, we had to make up three what-if questions. I was just learning about Jason, so I asked a question that would make... a lot of the Bat Fam fans upset with me. Which is exactly why I'm making a fic of it. So yes. Jason stars. He's probably not in character. At all. But that's the fun part. And Nightwing is here. I had two parts to this because originally, I had Miss West BETA it for me, but now I'm doing it because the main point of this story, starting next chapter, will take up a lot of space. I like to get detailed when it comes to these categories. If you read the summary, I'm sure you know what's going to happen, so please... don't hate me. I just want 200 stories again and I'm posting the old stuff I never had the courage to post earlier. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Batfamily, the characters, this show, the names and what forth. Just my odd sense in wording.**

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What is the easiest thing to break?

If you grew up mischievous, a smirk lining your every word as the demented wheels inside your head turned frantically with the intention of thinking up some cruel act you could do to get even further under the skin of someone you hated at the moment, you might say a window or a vase.

If you grew up with your head up in the sky, suspended on Cloud Nine for the longest time with your frantically beating heart promised to a single soul who you could never rid your mind of until they came up beside you and violently kicked you from your little piece of heaven where you shattered on the ground into a realization far more painful than the fall itself, you'd say a heart.

If you were that shy kid in school, the one who sits back by the window during class, your eyes on the outside world as they had the fun you were far too afraid to have yourself while listening and hanging on to every word your teacher said, slowly building your intelligence to a level where being a successful serial killer wouldn't be too surprising to hear about, you'd say silence.

All of those are good answers, but I'm looking for one of the most specific answers, the thing that even the most careful among us has broken far more than just once. The closest answer above would've been the way that you shy kids submitted with silence, seeing that the common way to break it is by speaking, but the only way that relates to the answer in my head is by the voice required to even make the thing that's easily broken.

This thing is the most sacred and treasured thing to ever come about in existence, hanging around as long as some form of language has been about. It's far more important than the invention of the wheel, electricity, governments and anything else that has set society forward a few steps. It bases all friendships, making them up from the start of the f to the ending s, determines trust between what had once been two strangers, prevented wars when held right and can ruin a life the second it's given away.

A promise.

A promise in itself is a delicate thing, for it can range off in several different categories. A promise can be a vow, such as when you promise that your entire life is to be bound to another soul's until the day you die, the most commonly broken promise that has ever come about in life itself. It can also be a secret kept, one where you swear to keep it to yourself and to share it with no one because it's something only you and that other person need to know, the promise binding you to that agreement.

The broken promise that this story revolves around is the one that Jason had given Batman earlier that day, back when the full moon had a shining sun in its place, nothing but innocence in its rays. He had swore on every ounce of his heart with every word that slipped from his lips that he wouldn't go off on this mission, not even if he had company. The lies had fell like rain, common and easy to tolerate, no one noticing because of how regular it was to see them blow in on their way across the country, simply assuming there was no greater storm behind it.

This storm was far greater than any that rain could bring with it, ranging with harder effects than any hurricane or tsunami could conjure after even years of building up. The broken promise was the rumored eye of the storm, the safest part of anything, the harsh winds that would tear the world away mercilessly coming much faster than any weatherman or weatherwoman could report them. There was no time to warn the citizens to take refuge in their basements with their children, the ticking clock not even allowing a simple bidding of good luck to the victims that would suffer from the fast-approaching side-effects.

Jason stood in the eye of the storm, more specifically inside the warehouse, crouched down against the back of a wooden crate. The splintery material rubbed up against his back, the feeling of the texture slipping through his costume easily, but he had felt much worse on his back. The crate was barely a foot smaller than him, but that was still pretty big, making hiding pretty easy even though he hadn't seen a single heartbeat to hide from quite yet.

Inside the warehouse, darkness drowned him, blurring his figure against that of the endless amount of shelved craves that towered around him on all sides. The windows that lined the upper rim just barely let in a few faint spotlights, but they only illuminated the tops of the boxes, keeping the room itself in a mess of blacks and grays. The ebony already had hair of the blackest tone, his costume rather dark in tone to match so he was well camouflaged amongst the endless rows of potential hiding spots, stacked on one another like the blocks that younger children play with until they decide stacking ABC blocks isn't fun anymore.

For once, he wasn't smirking with a cocky tone to his aura at the thought of how ticked Batman would be at him for bringing down the drug cartel without him. Normally, such an idea would have him beaming inside and out because he knew once the rest of the team was gone and the costumes were put away, Bruce would tousle his hair and remind him of how proud he was in that special voice that he never used on the rest of the team. The only thing that kept his eyebrows furrowed and his lips in a straight line was the reminder that he was going against 'family', breaking his word in a way that would probably disband the rest of Batman's trust towards him.

Taking a deep breath, Jason darted from behind his crate to one across the brief brake in the line-up of crates, quickly molding his figure into a different box, his breath as hushed as he could make it. He knew that even the slightest sound in this place caused a deafening echo, seeing that even his footsteps were still just barely lingering in the air around his ears. He ducked his head down, breathing hard from the excitement of it all, his heart racing frantically in his chest, his hands pressed to the wood on either side of him.

He wasn't quite sure what he was looking for, other than proof that it was the guys Batman accused who were dealing the illegals out, but that was a general statement. His eyes scanned for any other set of shoulders that weren't his own, any open boxes with suspicious boxes in them, the smell of any form of drugs that could be considered illegal in any part of the United States; basically anything that would tag these bozos to the crimes they so obviously committed. He knew _something _had to be there, but he just couldn't find it quite yet.

Jason's suspicion caught up with his breath fast when he noticed the footsteps were still lingering, a lot louder than they had when it had just been from him crossing to the other box. He wasn't alone in the warehouse. He couldn't hear their breath, he couldn't see them, he didn't know who they are, but he knew they were there with him and that he had to find out who they were for Batman. That was his first thought at least, but then he remembered that his com. link was back in his room at the Wayne Manor because he didn't want Batman finding out he was gone and tracking him down.

The ebony scowled at his own stupidity, face-palming faintly before he cautiously ducked his head over the corner, watching the shadows intensely. The darkness was at its darkest pitch from where the steps seemed to come from, but the echoes made it sound like they were encircling him. From the sounds of it, there was only one, his or her footsteps slow and controlled for a more dramatic effect, but he couldn't be too sure. A hand touched to his utility belt as he searched the darkness, carefully scanning for any spot of darkness that stood out against the rest.

He didn't have to look for the footsteps. The shoes were kind enough to direct themselves to Jason's side, a hand closing down hard on his shoulder without a word. Robin jumped out of his skin, spinning sharp on his heels and digging his fist into the gut of whoever had touched him, freezing when he recognized the jump suit in front of his face. The teen pulled his fist back, standing to his feet and looking up into the domino mask that paralleled his own.

Pain swarmed Dick Grayson's face, breaking off when the eyeholes saw the apologetic look that was hidden in the darkness. The closeness between the two partners to Batman was the only thing that let them see each other in the darkness, a frown settled over both of their lips.

"Nightwing…" Jason breathed, his eyes wide faintly before he smiled in brief relief. "Thank God it's just you!"

Although the thought that Batman had chosen to sic his guard bird on his sidekick did occur to Jason, he was still relieved to see a familiar face instead of a bad guy. It was a faint comfort, if even just barely, compared to the thought of being murdered by strangers, taken from the world without telling Bruce goodbye. He shuddered internally at it, his heart sinking. Bruce… if he was to die right there, without ever getting to see the man closest in placement to his father, the fact that the thing he'd be remembered for being a broken promise made his stomach churn.

Dick's face drained of all emotion as the younger boy rubbed his neck, trying to relieve the tension in the same manner Kid Flash had done once upon a potential happy ever after. Just the sight made his face harden, his features turning to stone. His eyes weren't wide or narrowed, he wasn't smiling or frowning. He was just a face in the darkness, a stranger behind two masks.

"Yeah…" his voice was soft, forced to a lower tone in the depths of his throat, taking on a husky sound resonance as it left his lips. "… just me…"

Jason didn't think twice on the choice of words, simply happy to find that he had company in the darkness, protection from the bad guys that most certainly loomed around the corner waiting for them. The only reason his thoughts didn't repeat themselves was because in the darkness, he failed to see the crowbar wedged tightly into Dick's fist, hidden at his side by a grip that promised it wasn't just there for decoration. No, it was the storm shifting, moving Robin from the safety of the eye that had previously sheltered him from the damage that was about to come.

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**You guys don't hate me yet... do you? If you don't get what the crowbar references, you obviously don't know how Jason died. I don't recommend looking it up though. It's sad. And it explains why this is going to take a while to write. Plenty of gore. Because it'll take a while to get one of these ebonies down. Oh. That's right. Who am I going to kill? What if I like Jason? What if I'm pissy with Dick at the moment because of the recent episodes and his lack of involvement with them? So yes. If you have a weak stomach, that's all the more reason to stick around for the next chapter. It'd be nice if you reviewed. Because today's my birthday... I'm Blue Beetle's age now! HA! YAY! Age growth. Closer to dying. **

**-F.J. **


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